Forsaken
by Shadow-Dreamer15
Summary: AU, Jesse sits in a church and ponders irony, heartbreak, and religion. JESSESUZE.


Jesse DeSilva had been a devout Catholic for more than a century.

But as he stood in the mission that he had worshiped at as a boy, then a man, and then a ghost he cursed fate and God. Never had he felt so forsaken, even when he awoke in a boarding house room as dead as Adam. Even when his mother cried for her only son, while he stood next to her, knowing that if he tried to hug her his hands would reach through her.

The church was empty, but even had it been the middle of mass he would have been alone. _Why god_? He wanted to cry out. _Was I not a faithful servant? A humble man, mindful of family and obligations? Why would you give me everything, only to take it away? _The last he said aloud, "Why my God have you forsaken me?" It was a cry from a man who had lost everything in a moment of irony and a plea for it to be returned.

"Things happen for a reason, Jesse." Father Dominic's voice was calm, but perhaps there was a sadness to it. He, of all people, should know the overwhelming pain and despair Jesse felt, the reason he could not bear to be sober and, even here, he held a glass bottle of whiskey."Do not let your faith in our Father waver, he weeps for you."

"He does not need to," His voice was so broken and bitter it broke Father Dominic's heart. "I do plenty of that for myself." With that he lifted his hand and took a swig from the bottle in his hand; days ago he would have thought his behavior vulgar, today he preferred no to think at all.

"Susannah would not want you to be in pain, she would want you to live." He said pleadingly.

"_I _do not want to live." No tears fell from Jesse's eyes, but some grief is beyond tears.

"But you will, Jesse." Father Dominic's voice was firm. "God gave you a second chance, you are meant for great things."

"If there is God, he is no friend of mine.All my life I have prayed and lived as one ought to, what has been granted to me? Death and sorrow, I may be alive. But, life is but a curse without one to share it with."

Father Dominic laid a hand on Jesse's shoulder, stiff with so much sadness and rage. It had only been a week. Understanding would not come so soon, not even for a boy like Jesse. "No life is meaningless, Jesse, you'll understand when your grief is not so raw and your anger is gone. Susannah didn't want to leave you, she wanted to stay with you forever. It is sad that that was not God's will, but it would be sadder for you to waste **any** of your life drunk."

"If she had really wanted me, she'd have came back to say good bye." He said in a whisper.

"Jesse," Father Dominic was in full priest mode now. "Suze, could not have known you would become a mediator and she is not the sort of person to come back and tell Mr. Slater of her love for you."

"Thank you." Jesse bowed his head into his hands. "That is...comforting. Will you leave me? I wish to pray."

Father Dominic retreated without a word, the only sound he made was the thud of his retreating foot steps.

Jesse crossed himself and said a simple, heartfelt prayer. "God in heaven, may you forgive for my trespasses and grant me mercy, let me be with her. In anyway. Amen."

In the morning, Father Dominic found Jesse's body. He was sitting upright in the pew with his hands folded in prayer and his face held a look of peace that Jesse had not known since he had come back to this spiritual plane and Susannah had left it.

If it hadn't been for the note folded neatly in his lap, Father Dominic would have thought God had been merciful and granted this poor boy a merciful reprieve. But when he unfolded the note, there was no doubt in his mind. Because in Jesse's old fashioned script read:

God helps those who help themselves

And Father Dominic wept then, for the dead boy in front of him, the girl that had died to save him a week earlier, and for another boy who had nearly taken his own life almost fifty years earlier.

Epilouge

Jesse DeSilva was buried the next day at twilight by Susannah Simon.

It was a most curious event, for only two guests were in attendance: an old priest who had tears in his eyes as he said the blessing and a handsome, young man who held a dozen bright, yellow roses in his hand and laid them on the grave beside then newly dug one of the boy's.

It was odd, burying someone at twilight. But the priest had insisted. It was even odder, the gravediggers thought, that someone from the 1800's could have known that girl that died from what the doctors determined must have been a brain disorder and died "for the love of her".

But when they patted the last bit of dirt on the grave, the gravediggers all swore they saw a couple walking hand in hand into the twilight.

The priest just smiled, "The lord works in mysterious ways." He said.


End file.
